


What's A Dowry Cake?

by Topographical_Map_Of_Utah



Series: Look For The Force [7]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Rogue One, little baby Chirrut and Baze
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-29 04:51:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10846848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topographical_Map_Of_Utah/pseuds/Topographical_Map_Of_Utah
Summary: It's Chirrut's birthday so everything has to be absolutely, positively, completely and totally perfect. At least Baze thinks so.





	What's A Dowry Cake?

Baze watched the sunrise paint the city walls pink, tired eyes hazy and left foot numb. The view was mostly obscured by the feet of passersby, the whispering red robes of pilgrims. Bored, he batted a spider away from his nose, counting the notches on the underside of the table while he waited for the signal that meant the coast was clear. One could only hope it would come soon. Already his legs were beginning to cramp. 

He had been driven into hiding beneath a friendly merchant's stall while Viado's low-level thugs scoured the market for him. Boys not much older than Baze, paid by the foul-mouthed baker in loose credits and sour beer. They kept most of the hungry young thieves away from his wares, but Baze was made of tougher stuff than that. He watched their boots stamping by and stuck out his tongue. Usually he wouldn't make an effort to goad them into a chase, but today was special.

 It was Chirrut's seventh birthday, an occasion worth all the pomp and circumstance in the world, in Baze's opinion. He thought about the fancy pastry box he had pinched from Viado's stall and smiled. A bit squished around the edges, but he was sure Chirrut would appreciate the gesture.

Eventually there was a rap above his head and Baze relaxed, shimmying out from between the oily toolboxes and crates of spare parts with a sneeze. The only complaint he had about this particular hiding spot was the dust. Better than that crevice of an alleyway at the other end of the market, though. That was where the fish vendor dumped anything rotten, and the smell was rather unpleasant.

"Thank you, Delara." Baze kept his voice hushed, accepting the little box she handed him as well as a stern pinch to the cheek. He probably deserved it, honestly. Baze rubbed the red mark she left and pouted, blinking at her with what his mama called a puppy akk face. He was quite good at it, apparently.

"Don't give me that look, you. Fifth time this month you've been curled up under my booth..." Delara shook her head and adjusted her headscarf, watching Baze fuss over his ill-gotten gains. It was too early in the morning for her to be harbouring a grimy little fugitive of the law. It was his good fortune that Delara and Kayda, his poor mother, were on good terms. "You're a troublesome boy, Baze. It's a wonder your mother hasn't gone mad yet. Now why would you steal a dowry cake?"

"For Chirrut. It's his birthday." Baze didn't quite know what a dowry cake was. He had just seen the expensive looking box sitting on Viado's counter and taken a jab at it. Inside there was a big, sticky, golden pastry made for two, the fancy kind his mother was too practical to buy, even on birthdays. Special occasions in their family were characterized by homemade egg tarts and handmade wooden dolls, the rough shapes reminiscent of the strange creatures she had seen during her time as a pilot. Baze was more than happy with those, but he wanted Chirrut to have something with a bit of flair to it. "D'you think he'll like it?"

Delara felt her face soften in spite of herself. At the mention of the little boy Baze had found on the street a year ago, suddenly his antics seemed a bit more justifiable. Besides, how could she scold that earnest little face?

"Of course he will, child. Now go on home before those goons come back and beat the tar out of you." Baze nodded and rushed off, a skip in his furtive step and a smile on his grimy face. Delara shook her head for what felt like the hundredth time and turned her attention back to the component she was polishing. It really was a wonder his mother hadn't gone mad yet. 

 

\------------

 

Baze pounded up the crumbling stone staircase, minding the dip in the eighth step. After tripping on that for the thousandth time he trotted inside, reverently placing the cake on the kitchen table while he looked through the clutter for the one plate in the house that wasn't chipped. His mother was still in the mines, but Chirrut was sitting in the pantry with a jar of pickles in his hands, too absorbed in trying to find a home for it on the sparsely stocked shelves to notice Baze. He had gotten into the habit of arranging things, for whatever reason. Every knickknack in their house was ordered neatly by weight, height, or texture. Baze's mama appreciated it, that was for sure.

After taking a peek in there Baze crept back to the kitchen with the plate under his arm; a fine boned piece of china, thin and delicate as a leaf. One of the few things his mama had managed to swipe from her parent's house before running off with his father, but Baze didn't know that part. He slid the cake onto it and smiled, surveying his work. It sure looked nice, big and fluffy and dusted with sugar that glittered like Kyber crystals. Viado may well be a lying, cheating, two-timing scoundrel, but he could sure bake. After wiping off the plate Baze carried it over to the pantry, feeling rather grand. Once he got there, though, any hint of pomp disappeared. Incapable of suppressing his impish tendencies he set down the cake and crept up behind Chirrut, a grin spreading across his face. It wasn't his fault. He just couldn't shut it off.

"Boo!" Baze leapt at Chirrut's back, but before he knew what was happening Chirrut was on his feet and there was a bony heel in his stomach. Baze squawked in surprise, suddenly thrown backwards and landing flat on his rear end, making the boxes and jars Chirrut had been arranging rattle on the wooden planks. Baze rubbed his stomach and scowled, feeling blood rush to his cheeks. He had failed to sneak up on a blind kid. This was all a tad bit embarrassing.

"Ouch..." Baze whined, more out of wounded pride than anything. Chirrut's face relaxed at the sound of his voice, a smug grin tweaking his lips. Good to know one of them was enjoying themselves.

"Oh. it's just you." Chirrut placed his jar delicately on the shelf and felt his way over, humming one of his mantras under his breath, the soft beat pulsing like a heart. It sometimes seemed like Chirrut had an infinite supply of those hymns, making the tiny flat echo as grandly as the inside of the Temple. Baze could almost smell the incense, feel a waxen candle melting in his hand. But mostly all he could feel at the moment was a sore rear. Chirrut was a real pain, sometimes.

"Happy birthday, dummy..."

"I'm not the dummy. You started it." Chirrut insisted as he pulled Baze upright. He was astonishingly strong, for a kid his size. Already Baze found himself needing to drag him away from roadside squabbles over marbles and jacks. Hopefully it wouldn't get worse as he got older. Eventually the words registered and Chirrut squeezed Baze's hand, a smile splitting his face like a melon. "You remembered?" 

"'Course I remembered. How could I forget your birthday? That's like...like forgetting to blink. It just kinda happens on its own." Having made his point, Baze scooped up his cake (thankfully intact) and held it out, grinning when Chirrut pulled a chunk off the top and stuck it in his mouth. "Happy birthday! It's a cake, by the way." he added. Baze was still getting used to adding visual commentary to his day-to-day life. He was getting better at it, though. 

Chirrut laughed a 'thank you' around his mouthful of spongecake and sugar paste, looking pretty happy with his lot. By all means, he seemed happy, but Baze still watched his reaction with wide eyes, anxious to please.

"D'you like it?" Baze asked, giving Chirrut a nudge. Chirrut nodded, but Baze had to be absolutely, positively certain that his birthday was going as well as it possibly could. "D'you want anything else? Anything?"

"Well, maybe..." Chirrut tapped his fingers together and smiled. "Can we eat it on the roof?"

"Alright. Don't fall, though." Baze warned as he guided Chirrut towards the stairs that led outside. "That'd ruin your birthday, I think." 

Chirrut had a strange fascination with the roof. Baze would oftentimes find him sitting up there on warm days, his face tilted back like a desert flower searching for the sun. He was quite a bit like a tooka, that way. Down to the happy little smile on his thin face. 

That was the smile Baze saw now, clambering back onto the roof after putting the fancy dish back in the kitchen, clean aside from the stray crumb or two. Hopefully his mama wouldn't mind that he had used it. At least the evidence was gone, he reflected. The only evidence was the stomachache he was nursing. Maybe there was such a thing as too much cake. Up until this point he hadn't believed it.

Baze found Chirrut sitting prim and proper, his legs crossed and eyes closed, hands resting on his knees. It was a bit funny looking, but Baze wasn't about to say so outright. "Chirrut? What're you doing?"

"Meditating. A pilgrim once showed me how."

"What's meditating?  

"It's a fancy way to ignore everybody." Chirrut said sagely, hands once again on his knees. Baze considered him for a moment, then he crammed the last bit of the cake into his mouth, licked the icing sugar off of his fingers, and set himself down beside Chirrut, raising a puff of grey dust. The whole city sported a film of sand, now that he thought about it, like every building was slowly crumbling into the dunes.

"But you're not ignoring me."

"I guess I'm not very good at meditating yet. Now shh." 

At being chided Baze pouted and got to his feet, climbing up the crumbling brick roof and balancing on the sliver of a ledge with arms outstretched, showing off for no particular reason. It wasn't like Chirrut could be impressed by what he couldn't see, but Baze always flaunted himself anyways. After dangling off of the chimney by his fingertips for a few minutes he gave up and flopped down on the sun-warmed roof, glancing over at Chirrut with a lazy glint in his eyes.

"Hey, Chirrut?"

"Shh."

"What d'you think about? While you meditate?"

"Nothing." Chirrut hummed. 

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing at all. It should be easy for you."

"Hey!" Baze got to his feet, indignant, then he changed his mind and rested against Chirrut's shoulder, sleepy from the sunlight and cake settling in his stomach. Maybe he would let that jab at his dignity slide, for now, at least. "You're being mean..."

"It's my birthday. I'm allowed to be." Chirrut laughed. "Hey, do you wanna go inside? Your Mama might be back from work..."

The only answer he got was something flopping into his lap, warm and heavy and soft. Curious, Chirrut reached down and felt coarse hair under his fingers, Baze's purring snores against his thin tunic. A smile spread across his face and he gathered a handful of Baze's curls in his hands, weaving thick braids that wound neatly around his head. Staying here didn't seem like that bad of an idea, actually. After all, he could feel the summer sun tickling the top of his head, the gentle breeze on his cheek. The weight in his lap was nice, too. Chirrut pat the top of Baze's head, feeling rather sleepy himself, now. Eventually he burrowed closer and closed his eyes, a lazy smile spreading across his face when Baze squeezed him even tighter. Being a teddy bear actually wasn't that bad, Chirrut decided as his eyes fluttered shut. Not bad at all.

 

\-----------

 

Baze's mother found them an hour later, curled up together like kittens in a basket. She rolled her eyes and gathered up the two sleeping forms, smiling when Baze cuddled closer to Chirrut, arms wrapped protectively around his bony shoulders. 

"Delara told me about your antics, dearest." Kayda nuzzled her face into her son's hair, the dark curls he had inherited straight from his father smelling of warm dust and sugar. "I think a dowry cake is a bit too on the nose for the two of you." Baze mumbled something in his sleep and she kissed him on the forehead. "We'll see what happens, I suppose..."

Delara had her money on marriage, but Kayda didn't want to presume.

**Author's Note:**

> idk man i like space babies


End file.
